Hope & Despair
by SaraVannin
Summary: Continuing from where issue 348 of Manga left off. When it seems like all hope is gone, can Orihime stop Ulquiorra? Orihime x Ulquiorra. Will contain some spoilers.
1. Chapter 1

Hope & Despair

I don't own them and I'm not making money from this. I'm probably not even making friends from it….

I'm a recent convert to Bleach, so forgive me if I get some facts regarding people's abilities wrong or if anyone seems too OOC. I was stuck with an idea and had to write it down….

"So you've come. Woman." He can see her staring up at him, her eyes wide. He can see the fear she denied feeling shining brightly in the silver orbs. It sickens him. She was not afraid for her own life, why should she care about this trash before him? Even this high up, he can hear her whisper _his_ name. _'Disgusting!'_ "You're just in time." His tail tightens around the Shinigami's neck. "Watch closely." He didn't think it was possible for her eyes to widen anymore than they already were. Apparently he was mistaken. Even as he moves his hand to Kurosaki's chest, his eyes remain locked with hers. "This is the moment the man you put your hope in," he pauses, ensuring he has her attention. He wants her to see this. "Will lose his life."

She screams for him to stop, amazed that she is capable of such volume. Even so, it is useless. She watches as darkness covers Kurosaki's chest, feeling Ulquiorra's eyes on her the whole time. Frozen to the spot, Orihime can do nothing but watch the cero punch a hole through the young Shinigami. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind she notes that it is the same size and locale as his. The body is dropped unceremoniously from the tower. "Ishi-" she begins, but the Quincy's already started towards the falling form. Above her, Ulquiorra's wings extend, tail whips. He's looking down at her and she suddenly knows what it feels like to be prey.

He descends towards her, fast. He thinks he can see her whole body tense as he closes in. Despite this, Orihime does not retreat. Not for the first time, he is impressed by her bravery. He lands a few feet away from her and slowly, teasingly, closes the gap. "Are you afraid?" Silence. She does not answer him, but he can see the unshed tears in her eyes, the rapid rise and fall of her chest. He can hear the furious beating of her….heart. Ulquiorra raises his clawed hand towards her chest. Orihime flinches away from his touch.

"What have you done?" Despite the words being barely above a whisper, he hears her clearly.

"I have made a point." He states it matter-of-factly, as if it should be obvious. "He could not win. He should not have initiated the fight."

"Why?"

"I have covered this. He could not wi-" She steps towards him, anger flashing in her eyes.

"Why?! You didn't have to kill him! I would've stayed, I would've begged him to leave. All of them!" The tears do fall now.

"And they would have stayed, and fought, and died regardless of your pleas." She shakes her head. "Yes." As if reading her thoughts, he adds "Do not attempt to heal him. It would only result in him being destroyed by me again."

"Please, let me heal him and I promise you, they'll all leave." Her eyes are begging him.

"No. There is no need, we are winning. Besides," his eyes look her up and down, "you are no longer the asset you once were. If your safety is not ensured, they will not leave." More silence. "I ask you again, are you afraid?" A sob escapes her, and she nods. _'Finally.'_

"I'm afraid for you." He is not sure he heard her right, did she say 'for'? "What _are_ you, Ulquiorra? I thought…. I thought there was something more, something good in you." Her words surprise and confuse him. His tail involuntarily flicks behind him.

"Then you are more foolish than I first thought. It must be this 'heart' you speak so fondly of. It makes you see things that are not there. It is the reason why Kurosaki is dead. Why all of your friends will die. Ultimately, it will be the reason for your death." Why does that thought effect him? He always anticipated that she would die here in Hueco Mundo. He always assumed that when the time came, the duty would be entrusted to him. Why then, does the admission leave a bitter taste in his mouth?

"A heart doesn't make you weak, it makes you strong. My heart is the reason why I survived in this Hell. Because my heart is with my nakama. My love for them keeps me strong!" She wants to reach out to him, to shake some sense, some emotion in to him. Her hands twitch at the desire. Her simply stares at her.

"….love?" It is not a concept he is familiar with.

"Love," she repeats. His head tilts and she finds the action a strange mix of child like and animalistic. "I love them."

"Is love as indiscernible as a heart?" She does reach towards him this time. At the same time, she closes the distance between them. His eyes widen slightly, but he does not move. Her shaking hand grasps his clawed one. She raises it to her and places it over her chest. He can feel the thump beneath her uniform, beneath her skin.

"You can tear open my chest and pull out the beating muscle, but the heart is more than the bloody organ you would hold in your hand." He thinks he can feel her pulse quickening under his touch. Her eyes, which had been locked on where her hand held his to her chest, rise to stare into his. "Love is giving your heart to another. A piece of you belongs to them and its like they become an extension of you. Their pain is your pain. Their happiness, your happiness." He shakes his head, but does not pull his hand back.

"That does not make sense." Her brow furrows as she tries to think of a way to explain.

"When Aizen-sama is displeased, do you want to please him? When he is pleased, are you satisfied?" He merely blinks.

"Is that love?" A sad smile forms on her lips.

"Perhaps it is a kind of love. More likely, it is loyalty. Love should be mutual." He considers for a moment. She sighs and removes her hand from over his. Still, he does not allow his own to drop. He finds the feel of her pulse….pleasing. "But you're right, love does make you foolish. They fight for love, just as I would. I would fight for anyone who has a piece of my heart." She takes a shuddering breath. "I would _die_ for those who hold a piece of my heart!" Perhaps they are alike. He would die for Aizen. He would certainly do all he could to avoid doing so, but he would fight to the death if necessary. Like she said, he is loyal. Then again, he was created to serve. Are humans created to love? He wondered if he had loved when he was human, wondered if it had been the cause of his death. He wondered if he would have died for her had they known each other? Ulquiorra retracted his hand. It still did not make sense, yet….

Orihime was surprised by the overwhelming cold she felt when his touch was taken from her. She wondered if that was how his hollow felt all of the time. Cold and like something was missing, the vague memory of it remaining to torture you. She looked at the monster before her. Kurosaki's blood was visible on him and she was sickened by the sight. Despite this, she still believed she could reason with him, get him to allow her to heal her friend. And once he was healed, to let him leave. If anything, Ulquiorra was logical. She just had to put her case across in a reasonable manner. "I can convince them to leave. Even if you're right and Aizen is winning, there will still be casualties to your side. I can end this now." He simply stares at her.

"You have said it yourself, when you love someone a piece of your heart belongs to them. They will not stop fighting for you. They will not leave a piece of themselves behind." It seems that she has described a heart too well. He is right. Even if one of them were to beg and plead with her, she would not leave them behind. She sobs, realising her mistake.

"But you are destroying me, as you destroy them." Tears fall freely from her eyes. She reaches out and holds his wrist, squeezing it tightly in her small hand. "You are breaking my heart!"

He is taken aback by her words, yet Ulquiorra does not know why. Much like the sudden prospect of killing her, the idea that he is breaking her heart unsettles him. Her tears disgust him, but not because they symbolise her weakness. Somehow her humanity no longer repulses him. Instead, he is disgusted because her tears make _him_ weak. He grabs her shoulders, his wings stretching out behind him. She gasps as she is pulled against his chest. She can feel the blood from his hollow saturate her uniform. His face moves to just in front of hers, his cool breath chilling her tears. "It is my duty to protect Las Noches and I am to do what is necessary to carry out that duty." His claw-like fingers dig in to her soft skin, undoubtedly bruising it. Despite this, she does not pull back, does not struggle. Instead, Orihime's eyes remain locked with his. He inhales deeply, carefully thinking through his next words. "It seems that _you_ are the reason it is under attack." He lets go of her and she falls to the floor without his support. His dark eyes look down at her. The sight of her staring up at him with her expressive eyes wide, the stark white of her clothes stained black/red with blood, does something to him. "Leave this place and never return." He begins to turn away from her, but stops, looking back. "And take your _heart_ with you."

For a moment, she thinks that he is not speaking of her friends. Her lips part to say something, but no words form on her tongue. What could she say? _'Come with me…'_ The thought echoes in her head, but she does not know why, nor does she have time to contemplate it. "You bastard!" Orihime's head turns behind her, to where a blood drenched Ishida stands. "He's dead!" Ulquiorra does not look back, although he does pause. He can feel energy building behind him. Orihime turns her body to face Ishida. He takes in the sight of her, kneeling on the ground, dress in tatters and blood stained. His eyes widen and then turn to look vehemently at the towering devil behind her. It takes Orihime only seconds to realise the misunderstanding. Regardless, Ishida has already begun his attack. The intricate blue spider web forms at his outstretched arm. Orihime glances back at Ulquiorra before returning her gaze to Ishida.

"Ishida, no! He's letting us go!" It does nothing to stop him, so far gone is he with blind rage. The arrows fly from the web. Orihime jumps up from the ground. She doesn't think, just acts as she throws herself in front of Ulquiorra.

Ulquiorra turns to watch as Orihime throws her delicate frame in front him. Her arms are stretched wide as she speaks the incantation. Even as the golden shield forms, he is both shocked and confused by her actions. Too late, he realises that the Quincy's arrows are stronger than ever. Her shield is broken and Orihime is thrown backwards. Her poor body now lies broken at his feet. For a moment there is only silence. Both men are shocked by what has just happened. Shock is soon replaced by pure rage. Ulquiorra turns to Ishida, his eyes almost glowing. It is the second time that he has lost his temper, but he does not care at this point. All he can see is her broken form and the trash responsible. He reaches out and a second later darkness encompasses Ishida. When the dark fades, nothing remains of the Quincy.

Ulquiorra is breathing heavily. He has never lost control like this before. Looking down at her, he does not feel any of his control returning. "Woman. Woman, get up." She does not move, does not even stir. "Woman." Still nothing. Softer, almost a whisper "Orihime.." Her eyelids twitch, but do not open. He crouches beside her, reaches out a clawed hand to her shoulder. "Orihime". This time, her eyes open.

"Ulquiorra?" He moves his hand to her back and slowly, gently, raises her so that she is sitting.

"What, _exactly_, did you think you were doing?" Orihime grasps his arm to steady her self. She gasps as pain shoots through her entire body.

"Protecting you." He is stunned.

"Do I really look like I need protecting?" She does not answer, just stares at him. He shakes his head. "You are a fool Inoue Orihime." He hears her words echoing in his head _'love does make you foolish'_, but even he isn't deluded enough to believe a soul as pure as hers could love something like him. Strangely, he is left with a feeling of regret at this realisation. Without thinking, he brushes away some hair that has fallen over her face. She does not flinch as his hand touches her soft skin. Instead, her lips part slightly at the tender gesture. The moment is lost as she remembers her friends. Orihime's eyes desperately search about her for her fallen comrades. She cannot feel either of them nearby.

"Kurosaki? Ishida?" She tries to move, but he holds her still.

"Worry for your friends later. Right now, you need to heal yourself."

"No, I need to help them now. Where are they?" He does not answer her, and it is this silence that chills her to the bone. "No, Ulquiorra, please no…" She struggles against him. "It can't be…." Tears gather in her lashes.

"Your friends are dead." He averts his eyes from her penetrating gaze. "You should focus on healing your wounds."

"I don't understand. Why?" Why? Why had he lashed out and killed the Quincy? He could have easily disabled him instead of wiping him from existence. What had made him lose control to such an extent? The answer comes to him, even though he does not want to admit it; _her_.

"I am a monster. It is in my nature." She can smell the lie. What she doesn't understand is why he is lying to her. Ulquiorra has always been honest, even if it causes pain to the listener.

"You are not a monster." Her hand slowly reaches up and caresses the side of his face. She does not hesitate as her palm makes contact with his ashen skin. Surprisingly, it is warm to the touch. Her fingers trace the line that runs down his cheek. "You're-" She can't finish because fire floods her veins. She cries out at the agony that assaults her body. _'Is this what dying feels like?'_ His normally emotionless face contorts with worry.

"You must heal yourself!" He shakes her, not thinking of the pain it could cause. "I will not allow you to die!" She laughs at the absurdity of the command.

"Why?" _'She says that word a lot,'_ he thinks while he struggles to find the words.

"If I am despair, then you are hope." He swallows hard, unsure if he wants to continue. "One cannot exist without the other." Orihime forgets about the pain with his words. She is overwhelmed by the declaration.

He had closed his eyes, not wanting to look at her as he spoke. Now he can feel her moving in his arms. Opening his eyes, he is surprised to see her face so close to his, coming closer with each second that passes. He's frozen in place as her lips meet his for a chaste kiss. Its over nearly as soon as it begins, although she does not retreat.

"Soten Kisshen." He exhales, relieved that she is finally doing as he requested. Her hands rest against his chest. "I reject." A golden glow fills the space between them, but he is shocked when he realises that it encases him. He can't move as she backs away.

"What are you doing!" A determined smile forms of her lips, as an emotion he does not recognise shines in her eyes.

"I'm satisfying your curiosity." The hollow in his chest begins to fill. As it does, the wings on his back shatter and crumble to dust. Next, the fur falls from his body. He cries out at the pain of being unmade, but she does not stop. The hollow is nearly filled as the horns disintegrate before her eyes. He looks at her, the beads of sweat forming on her skin.

"Stop! Please! You're too weak." She does not listen, instead she pours more power into it. As the tear marks that mar his pale skin fade, the golden glow grows brighter, spreading throughout the room, throughout Hueco Mundo. The last thing he sees before unconsciousness takes him is the angel before him. The last thing he hears is her voice.

"I'm giving you a heart; mine."


	2. Chapter 2

I still don't own them.

Thank you for the reviews and favs.

---

Crowds gathered, desperately trying to see what they could. The area was sectioned off, but even so it was possible to see the evidence of what had transpired. There were bodies, at least three, covered with sheets. Official looking people tried to keep order as the crowd grew. Something had gone very wrong.

"What do you suppose happened?"

"Dunno, drunk driver?" A shaking head.

"It's sad how stupid people can be."

"Yeah. I think one of the bodies is a kid."

"Shit."

The ambulance staff did all they could to help those pulled from the twisted metal of the cars, but it was no use. They were no survivors. People had stood on the sidelines watching, praying for the lives of those involved. They were all united as they wished for them to survive. All, except for one. He stood there watching the scene unravel wishing for death. A quick and painless death, but death regardless. His hands, that were buried in the pockets of his vest, tightened into fists, the short nails digging into the skin. He was nervous. What if tonight was the night?

"Please, can you help me? I can't find my daughter!" His eyes flick to the left. A young woman approaches people in the crowd. Distress radiates from her, but they don't seem to pay her any notice. "Please! We were in an accident and now I can't find her." Her hand reaches out to an elderly lady, grasping at her arm. She does not make contact, her hand goes straight through. The young mother's eyes widen. Desperately, she throws her self at people, trying to get their attention. Each time, her body passes through theirs. "What's going on? What's happened to me?" The young man shakes his head. She doesn't understand. She doesn't know that she's dead.

It always surprises him that they cannot see the dead. That they cannot _hear_ their cries. He wonders, had he not been through what he has, would he see them? He feels the change in the atmosphere and tenses. This is it, what he's been waiting for. Will it be in vain?

"Why do you cry?" The voice, although soft, is not the sweet intonation he had hoped for. The dead woman looks towards the voice.

"You can see me?" A nod. "Have you seen my daughter?"

"Your daughter is in Soul Society, where you should be." Hope fills her eyes.

"Can you take me there?" A kind, understanding smile, then a nod.

"Yes." He does not stay. He does not need to see anymore. It was not her. A black butterfly passes overhead.

He returns to his home, if it can be called that. It does not feel like home, although he has to admit he's not sure what that would feel like. He removes his vest despite the chill. It would not matter how many layers he wears, he will always feel a chill. The cold has settled deep in his bones. He's been cold ever since that day.

There is pain, searing hot, and then darkness. When he does awake, everything feels wrong. He lies naked on the ground, the sand and rock beneath him digging uncomfortably into his skin. He realises that he can _feel_ it, individual stones pressing painfully against him. He feels it and realises that he should not be able to. He tries to raise himself up, manages to, if barely. His body feels weak and stiff. Looking ahead he can make out two forms in the distance, one dressed in black and one in white. He identifies them as Kurosaki and Ishida. "…how?" Suddenly he remembers the bright light. Bright, _orange_ light. Desperately, he turns his head around him, searching for her. A few feet away he spots her, a heap of white and orange. Seconds pass and he does not move, he doesn't even breathe. His ears fill with a loud thumping noise, the source of which he cannot locate. _Ba-bum. Ba-bum. _"Woman." He summons as much strength as he is able – why _is_ he so weak? – and crawls towards her. The thumping beat quickens as he draws closer, taking in the deathly pallor of her skin, the unnatural stillness. _Ba-bum. Ba-bum. _He reaches a shaking hand out to her face, but stops short of touching her. He is suddenly distracted by the unfamiliar look of his own hand. It is not the fact that it is shaking, although he has never known it to do so before. It is that his skin is no longer the white marble and ebony nails he had come to expect. Instead, it is soft and, well _fleshy_. _Ba-bum. Ba-bum. Ba-bum. _He raises a hand to his head. There are no horns, no helmet either full or half. _Ba-bum. Ba-bum._ His eyes and hands fall upon his chest. There is no tattoo. There is no hollow. He's hu- "What have you done?!" He pulls her body into his arms, shaking her. "Woman, what have you done to me?!" _Ba-bum. Ba-bum. Ba-bum._ She does not awake and the cold from her body chills his own. The thumping noise is the only sound he can hear, although each beat is so fast that they almost merge into one. Her head falls back limply as he holds her by her shoulders. _Ba-bum. Ba-bum. Ba-bum. _Ulquiorra's eyes widen with realisation as her words echo inside his head. _'I'm giving you a heart. Mine.'_ _Ba-bum. Ba-bum. _When the Soul Reapers find him, he is still crouched beside her, only now he is clutching her to his chest, repeating the same phrase over and over. "Take it back".

Ulquiorra can remember every detail of her as he cradled her in his arms. It's etched in his memory. Even now, over a year since it happened, he is angry. He did not want to be human. He did not want to be saved. He definitely did not want a heart, not when it hurt this much. It was suffocating. Yet he would continue to live until it was his time. He would not end his life, not given what it had cost. Regardless of whether he wanted it, regardless of whether he _deserved_ it, he could not dishonour her sacrifice. It seemed that the Soul Reapers were of the same mind. Even Kurosaki could not destroy the former Espada. Kurosaki who had also been 'saved' by Orihime's sacrifice, just as Ishida had. The whole of Hueco Mundo had bore witness to Orihime's power display. It was the reason that the 'good' guys had won. All of the Espadas and Hollows had been unmade right before their eyes. It seemed that Ulquiorra was the only one given a second chance. If she had deemed him worthy of such a gift, then they had to honour that decision. So he was thrown back into the human world and left to it. He thinks it would've been more humane if they _had _killed him.

Walking to his window he looks down at the streets below him. He really hates this world. At least in Las Noches one knew the danger. There was ruthlessness, but one knew to expect it. The Espadas may have been monsters, but they didn't pretend to be anything else. There was something…. comforting about that honesty. There was nothing comforting about this world. This _pathetic_ existence where people were just as ruthless his former comrades, only they hid it. They actually thought they were doing him a kindness by leaving him here! It was not as if he had been reborn, forgetting his former existence. He still remembered everything he had done as one of Aizezn's Espadas. He remembered the power that he had possessed. It was not going to be an easy transition, but it had not been made any easier by their non-involvement. Not that he would have wanted their help, of course. The only one of them that was even close to tolerable was now gone. Ulquiorra closes his eyes as he remembers, as if he could ever really forget. Orihime Inoue was dead.


	3. Chapter 3

As always, not mine.

A really big thank you for the reviews, alerts and favourites. I'm a bit overwhelmed, to say the least. I hope you're not disappointed with the continuation……

Orihime Inoue was dead. Ulquiorra knew better than to think this was the end of her story. He knew better than most. However, he was still left with an uncomfortable feeling inside of him. She may be continuing her story in Soul Society, but he was continuing his in the human world. It seemed unfair, or at least it would if he believed in such notions. This was the reason why he had started lingering at accidents, wishing for a fatality. It seemed inevitable that she would become a Soul Reaper. Surely, it was a matter of time before they crossed paths again. Months of waiting and watching, but still no sign. He wasn't entirely sure why he kept searching. What exactly did he hope to achieve? What difference would seeing her again make? He'd still be human, still be pathetic like the rest of them. He felt the now familiar thump within his chest. Familiar, but still unwelcome. The beating muscle was a constant reminder of her and her words.

"_Love is giving your heart to another. A piece of you belongs to them and it's like they become an extension of you. Their pain is your pain. Their happiness, your happiness."_

In her final moments, Orihime had told him she was giving him her heart. He was still confused by those words. Not 'a heart', she specifically said _her_ heart. Did that mean that they were now connected? He didn't feel connected. In fact, he felt distinctly _dis_connected. From this world, from these people. The only time Ulquiorra felt even remotely like he could empathise was when he saw the spirits, lost and confused. He immediately ruled out the idea that she was saying she loved him. Although he was still unfamiliar with the emotion, a year of living in the human world gave him enough insight to know that she could not have meant that. Love was something sacred here, something precious. Not something for monsters and murderers. So what had she meant? He'd spent too long trying to figure it out and hadn't got any closer to an answer. Perhaps, it was because of this curiosity that he continued to search for her. His eyes began to drift closed as he sat there on the widow sill staring out at the darkness.

_Orange cascaded either side of his face. Looking up, he was met by two silver orbs. Her pale skin was flushed pink and a small smile graced her lips. His body felt warm. She licked her lips and his temperature rose slightly. 'Ulquiorra?' He did not answer, instead he continued to stare up at her. She tucked her hair behind her ear and he was no longer curtained by the orange strands. She shifted above him and he gasped, hands digging into the naked flesh of her thighs. _

'_Do not play games with me woman.' This seemed to make her smile widen as she dipped her head to brush her lips softly against his own._

'_You might like the games I play.' She shifted again, this time grinding against him and his body was suddenly aflame. Ulquiorra growled as he lost control. She was flipped over on to her back as he covered her. Her pupils were dilated and her breathing was as ragged as his own. 'Do you want me, Ulquiorra?' He swallowed, hard, but did not answer her. Her legs wrapped around his waist bringing him closer to her warmth and causing him to grunt at the sensation. Her smile widens, but the emotion behind it changes. It is not the lust-filled smile from before or the enthusiastic grin she was known for. Instead it's…… cruel, malicious. 'You do, don't you? You want this body.' Her nails drag across his back, but there is only pain, no pleasure in the sensation. 'You want to feel this skin, kiss these lips,' she lifts her head and brings her mouth to his ear, 'bury yourself in the warmth'. Her legs unwrap from around him and she lowers her head to meet his eyes. Her eyes are cold steel and her face is distorted with disgust. 'How very __**human**__.' Her hand moves quicker than he can track, but he feels the pain as she plunges it deep into his chest. He rolls away from her, stunned as he lies there looking down at the gaping red wound she has left in his chest. He looks up to see her towering over him. She inspects her hand, frowning at the blood that mars it, before she looks down at him. Her face is cold, as his is confused and pleading. She shakes her head in disappointment. 'Trash' is all she says before she walks away._

The nightmare wakes him with a start. It's not the first time the image has tormented his sleep, but as every time before, he chooses not to analyse it. Perhaps he fears what he might uncover. His erratic breathing has caused condensation to form on the cold glass that his head rests against. The fog on the window veils him from the world beyond. He can almost believe that it is just him and these four white walls. Tentatively, he reaches out a finger and draws a crescent in the mist on the pane. It's just him, these white walls and the waxing crescent moon etched where the warmth meets the cold, and he wonders if she felt as lost and alone as he does now.


	4. Chapter 4

Not mine.

This story will be the end of me! I'm sticking to one-shots in the future. As always, thank you for all of the reviews, faves and alerts. They've helped keep me relatively sane.

-------

The night air was surprisingly cool against his skin. These past few weeks the days had been stiflingly warm, so the chill in the breeze was more than welcome. Ulquiorra closed his eyes as the wind blew through his hair, cooling the moisture that had formed on his scalp. The earth was crying out for rain and he couldn't help but agree. A good thunderstorm to quench the earth's thirst, to wash away the grime. He thinks of his hands and wonders if it could wash them clean too. Ulquiorra likes to come to this part of town. It's not picturesque; run down buildings and boarded up windows. Clearly, it's not the view that brings him back again and again. He heads towards a building that is nothing more than a blackened shell. Even if he hadn't done some research on the place, he would know that a fire had devastated it. He discovered it quite by accident one night when the white walls of his 'home' had become too much.

Usually, he found the walls comforting. They provided a sanctuary for him against the outside world, giving him the solitude he craved. Only that night it had become too much. He didn't want to be left alone with his own thoughts, memories. So he'd walked, but even that hadn't chased away visions he wasn't willing to face. His footsteps were quickening, as if he were trying to outrun his own mind, when he'd heard it. The howling cry called out to him, stopping him dead in his tracks. There was something about the desperation in the cry, something that was achingly familiar. He located the noise as coming from the burnt out shell ahead of him and began walking towards it, drawn to it like a Siren's song. He discovered that the cries were the agonising, desperate wails of an earthbound spirit. The Chain of Fate stemming from its chest embedded itself in the concrete of the building. The links of the chain were dull, barely reflecting the moonlight that poured in through the fire-damaged roof. He could see that it was only a matter of time before the chain and spirit separated; the tell tale signs of a hollow hole already beginning to show. Instinctively, Ulquiorra's hand had risen to his chest, fingers brushing where his own hollow had been. The spirit resembled a young man, only slightly younger than Ulquiorra himself _appeared_ to be. His shoulders shook with the force of his grief, tears falling down his face, and still the wails. Another forgotten soul, left behind to be destroyed by grief and regret. Ulquiorra remained in the hall outside of the room that was the Jibaku's cell. He allowed his body to slide down the wall until he was sat, knees against chest, alongside the cold surface. He continued to sit there, listening to the spirit's wails; listening as the dead man cried the tears that he could not cry and gave a voice to the anguish he kept locked inside. For the first time since coming to the human world, he didn't feel as though he were suffocating. At last, Ulquiorra could breath.

His footsteps faltered as he neared the familiar building. Slowing to a stop, he stood and listened. Nothing. No screams, no shouts, no sobs. Even when the spirit stopped his despairing howl, he was never truly silent. Ulquiorra started walking again, this time a little quicker. Maybe he was over thinking things. He supposed, there were times when the spirit would whisper to its self, so really the silence was nothing to question… Still, he felt as though something were different, off. He climbed the stairs carefully, partly because they were damaged and unsafe, but mostly because he did not want to alert the spirit to his existence. Earthbounds tended to be very territorial, something he had discovered first hand. As he neared the landing, he heard the spirit's voice, but it wasn't crying, it didn't even sound sad. Ulquiorra's brow crinkled in confusion. It sounded almost as if the spirit were in conversation. He was outside of the room now, just about to take a look inside when a laugh made him pause. The laugh was unmistakably feminine. Ulquiorra's throat went suddenly dry and an uncomfortable feeling settled in his stomach. There was something about the laugh – he wasn't sure he wanted to look, afraid of what, _who_ he might see. It didn't matter, however, as they began to speak.

"He sounds like a real handful! Does he get it from you or his mother?"

"Oh definitely his mother. She was al-" Ulquiorra seemed to forget how to breathe. That voice! That soft, almost meek voice that concealed such strength of will. It was _her_. All this time he'd searched for her, only for her to find him when he'd finally given up. He hadn't confirmed it yet, hadn't glanced into the room and seen her. He was almost afraid to. What if it wasn't her? What if it _was_? At no point in his searching had Ulquiorra actually considered what he might do once he found her. Still, he had to know. Slowly, he peered around the entrance. The spirit stood talking animatedly to someone across the room. Ulquiorra's eyes followed its gaze and fell upon the robed form of Orihime Inoue, sitting upon the ground, smiling up at the dead man opposite.

The shock of seeing her was overwhelming. Ulquiorra actually felt nauseated by it. She was here, laughing and talking as though it was the most natural thing in the world. As though she hadn't died. He stood there and just looked at her. The last time he had seen her, she had been a limp, cold body in his arms. Her skin had been a greyish white, now it was a glowing peach. Her lips had been almost blue in colour, now they were pink and pulled back into a smile. Her orange locks had been tangled and matted with blood, now they shone, tangle-free although tied back. She started to walk towards the spirit, speaking as she did.

"You miss them, don't you?" The spirit nodded solemnly.

"Yes." Another step closer.

"Then why do you stay? Why not join them?" He shook his head.

"No." She looked confused.

"Why not? I don't understand. If you miss them you should try to find them, right?"

"No."

"But you said you missed them. Don't you love them?"

"I said no!" Orihime was startled by the outburst, her eyes wide. "I can't join them. I don't _deserve_ to join them!" He started to shake, overcome by his grief. "It's my fault. The fire… I killed th-" He was cut off as a pair of arms engulfed him. Orihime held the spirit close to her.

"Please stop. No one deserves this misery, especially not someone who loves their family as much as you." She pulls back from the embrace to look into his eyes. "It's time to stop punishing yourself. It's time to stop punishing _them_. They need you." Neither of them spoke for a number of minutes, they just stared at each other. "It's time to move on," her hand covered his chest, "before the emptiness destroys you and you stop being the man they love."

"Are they waiting for me?" Orihime's hand dropped to her side and she moved away slightly.

"It's not that simple. Soul Society is a big place, with more souls than you and I can imagine. Even the dead have to get on with living. But they're there, and isn't that enough? You can find them and be with them again." He shook his head, already defeated.

"What if I can't?" A small smile.

"Why wouldn't you? You've got eternity to look." Ulquiorra watched as the emotions ran across the spirit's face, so easy to decipher. Sadness, longing, regret, fear, but finally hope.

"Thank you. I think I'm ready now." Orihime practically beamed with those words, doing a small celebratory jump up and down. '_Ridiculous creature,'_ Ulquiorra thinks. He rakes his eyes over her form, but cannot find what he is looking for. She is dressed in the Shinigami robes, even wears a division arm band, but nowhere on her body is there an obvious Zanpakuto. _'I may be out of the loop, but I'm fairly sure that a Zanpakuto is necessary for a soul burial and if I'm not mistaken, she doesn't have one.'_ It was baffling. She looked like a Soul Reaper and even suggested that she carries out Soul Reaper duties, yet she lacked one vital element. Orihime patted down her robe, smoothing it out after her excited movements. She took on a serious air, so different from before, and raised her right arm slightly. Something glinted in the moonlight, flashes of white light bouncing from a silver chain on her wrist. Ulquiorra was surprised that he hadn't noticed it before. A small silver chain wound around her slender wrist, a circular plaque hanging from it. The flattened piece of silver swung as she brought her hand up to brush away some hair from the spirit's forehead.

"Will it hurt?" Her head tilted to the side while she looked at him.

"I don't know. It might. But it can't be as bad as this, can it? The hurt you feel here. The ache inside, pulling and tearing at your heart." Ulquiorra watches as Orihime's eyes close for a moment as she speaks. "The loneliness." The spirit smiles at her.

"Thank you for your honesty." She simply nods in response. Ulquiorra watched as Orihime turned her palm over, catching the plaque that swung from her chain as she did. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the sight of the chain hanging from her wrist conjures an image, but he cannot focus on that image; cannot see that which flickers at the edge of his memory. She raised the small disk of silver and placed it upon the spirit's forehead. Nothing happened for a few seconds and Ulquiorra wondered why he actually expected something to. _'Fool. As if you haven't watched enough soul burials to know how it should work.'_ He considered intervening, doubting that the spirit would react well when it discovered it cannot find peace. Of course, he is only human now. If the spirit's rage turned it to a Hollow, how was he to do anything in this pathetic form?

"Goodbye." Her voice cut through his thoughts and suddenly a light formed between where the silver met skin. She drew back her hand as the light, pale orange in colour, engulfed the spirit. The light grew brighter and brighter, until it was white light and the spirit's form was no longer visible within it. Orihime had to shield her eyes until it began to dim, slowly revealing the outline of a butterfly. Both Orihime and Ulquiorra watched it ascend in to the night sky.

Her smile fades as she continues to stare up at the open roof. The sudden sadness that overcomes her features is unexpected. Hadn't she just done what most would consider a 'good deed'? Ulquiorra continued to watch her, when suddenly he saw her brow crinkle. Too late he realised that she is turning to face the doorway. He stumbles backwards, tripping over his own feet in a way that is so uncharacteristic of him. Knowing there is no way that she didn't hear him, he panics, again so unlike him, and runs down the stairs and out of the building. He stops running once he reaches the pavement, but maintains a quick pace. _'Why am I running from that ridiculous woman? Didn't I want to find her?'_ Even so, he does not slow, does not look back. "Excuse me!" His eyes widen as he realises that she is following him. He continues walking, refuses to acknowledge her. "Ummm… excuse me, sir! Can you hear me? Were you just in the building watching me?" She is practically running next to him, her face nearly in his face, but still he refuses to stop or acknowledge her. She looks him right in the eyes, so close to him that he can see the stubborn hair that sticks out awkwardly from the top of her head. "Can you _see_ me?" He watches as she reaches out to touch him. Acting on instinct, he feigns tripping to avoid the contact. Orihime sighs and stops her pursuit as Ulquiorra continues walking. "I guess not." He ignores the discomfort her dejected tone causes him.

Ulquiorra returns to his home, bolting the door behind him and then cursing himself for the irrational act. _'I am _not_ afraid of that woman!'_ He stares at the door, half expecting her to appear before him. For five minutes he continues to stand and stare, his breath surprisingly steady despite the rapid thump in his chest. Eventually he retreats and heads to his bathroom, turning on the cold tap of the sink. Cupping the icy water in his hands, he splashes face, hoping that perhaps it is all a dream and the shock will wake him. He doesn't wake; instead he stares at his own reflection in the mirror, water droplets running down his face. _'She looked right at me.'_ His fists clench and his breathing increases. _'She looked _right _at me!' _With a cry, he lashes out, fists smashing the mirror. Orihime had looked directly him, and not a flicker of recognition had crossed her features. She didn't remember him.

--------

A/N

Quantity does not equal quality, as is evident above. I'm not happy with this instalment, but nothing else would come to me. Sorry!

Thanks again for the support!


	5. Chapter 5

As always, not mine.

It was cold again. More accurately, _he_ was cold again. The country was still gripped in a heat wave, but Ulquiorra was cold. It had been nearly two weeks since the night he'd seen _that woman_ again. Two weeks, and not a single hour of those fourteen days wasn't taken up with reliving that night. Every word she had spoken, all of her actions (ridiculous dance included), the way she looked…. But above all of these, the thing that haunted him the most were her eyes as they bore into his own. He supposes that it was foolish of him to think that that he held any importance in her life, that he was worth remembering. Still, her words echo in his head. _Her_ heart. She had said she was giving him her heart, shouldn't that mean that here was a connection? At the very least, he would have expected her to recognise him. Even recoiling in fear and loathing was preferable to _nothing_. But then he was left to wonder why her reaction, or lack of, had such an effect on him. What difference did it make if she knew him or not? Why was a connection so important? He was alone in this world, and wasn't that how it was supposed to be? Still, despite his reasoning, the chill remained.

* * *

'_Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.* _The rhyme enters her head unbidden, and she's not really sure why, but it feels appropriate. Of course, it's the middle of July so a poem about Christmas isn't something that would immediately spring to most people's minds, but then Orihime Inoue isn't most people. Even she can feel the heat, although she isn't sure why – she's dead after all. Yet, as she tiptoes across the room the words repeat in her head. _'No_', she decides, _'the words are perfect'_. They capture the exact atmosphere and emotions that she feels at this precise moment. Just like a child creeping downstairs on an eerily silent Christmas Eve, she is filled with a mixture of excitement, anticipation and wariness. She shouldn't be doing this, sneaking about this silent house, but just like that child, she can't stop herself. Of course, if she's being honest with herself, she doesn't really know how that child would feel. Orihime's never really celebrated Christmas in such a way, or at least, not that she can remember. But trivial things like that have never bothered her before. She can imagine, and in her imaginings_ this _is exactly how it feels. She supposes that it's silly of her to feel as she does, but she can't help it. Something was tugging her to this place, dragging almost. Just like the cries of the earth bound spirits, something was calling her here.

There is nobody present in the room, and the furnishing are so sparse that she wonders if anybody actually lives here. A well-thumbed book on the arm of a chair is one of the few things that suggest otherwise. There are no photographs on any of the shelves, no pictures on the walls, and suddenly she feels claustrophobic within this pale room. Hoping to ease the suffocating feeling, Orihime heads to the window. It's a clear night, and the inky sky is decorated with stars. Relaxing at the sight of the endless sky, she lets out a sigh. Her breath hits the window causing a layer of condensation to appear on the glass. She watches as a crescent moon forms in the moisture. For a moment she just stares at it. '_It's wrong'_, she thinks to herself. She can't explain why, but deep down something is screaming at her that it's wrong. '_This moon is wrong!'_ Her hand moves on it's own and traces the reverse of the 'wrong' moon. She steps back from the window, admiring her work. "There. Much bet-" but she's cut off mid sentence by the sound of a door unlocking.

* Extract from the poem by Clement Clarke Moore.

A/N

Okay, I know that this is a dribble of a chapter and I apologise for this, but I'm trying to get back in to this story. I'm sorry that it's taken so long to update – thank you for your patience.

As always, thank you for the reviews and faves – you are all beyond generous.


End file.
